


Comme des Enfants

by androgenius



Category: Pretty/Handsome
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 21:29:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgenius/pseuds/androgenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after their move into Alpha Phi Upsilon, the weather hits a record high, the university still reluctant to turn on the air conditioning for the on-campus housing facilities before the official start of school. The windows are flung open, the fans going at top speeds, and some of their fraternity brothers are taking turns letting themselves more or less hang their bodies into the cool air escaping from the refrigerator in the kitchen. Condensation settles on their glasses of iced tea like a sticky reminder of summers spent outside playing lacrosse and horsing around. Outside, the sound of the spray of water is a cause for excitement for seemingly everyone, and not just because of the way their sorority sisters are running around mostly naked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comme des Enfants

The day after their move into Alpha Phi Upsilon, the weather hits a record high, the university still reluctant to turn on the air conditioning for the on-campus housing facilities before the official start of school. The windows are flung open, the fans going at top speeds, and some of their fraternity brothers are taking turns letting themselves more or less hang their bodies into the cool air escaping from the refrigerator in the kitchen. Condensation settles on their glasses of iced tea like a sticky reminder of summers spent outside playing lacrosse and horsing around. Outside, the sound of the spray of water is a cause for excitement for seemingly everyone, and not just because of the way their sorority sisters are running around mostly naked. 

Beckett is grinning like a little boy by the time he walks back into their shared room, his hair slightly tousled from sweat as he tosses Patrick's swimming trunks at his front. 

"You're missing out on the view," he laughs lewdly, cocking his brow at Patrick. "I've had three showers today all before noon, but nothing is going to cool me off after the sights out there. One girl decided she was hot enough to just take off her bikini top, and three other girls _agreed_." He grins again, his hands moving swiftly to his own clothes to get out of them. "Come on."

"You're a pervert." Still, Patrick can't help but grin as he eyes the trunks, tossing them onto his bed. They certainly sound like a cooler option than clothes, he has to give him that. "Besides, I'm not sure Cass would appreciate if I went and stared at every other girl in sight on my very first full day here. You remember how worried she was."

"That's because you finding someone better than Cassie is a foregone conclusion, my friend. There's no contract that says that you have to fall in love with the first vagina you come in contact with. I mean-- that's just impractical."

Patrick sighs, and that’s the end of that discussion as Beckett disappears back outside. His hair is still matted to his forehead more than a little uncomfortably, and one glance at his phone serves as a quick reminder that he still hasn’t called Cassie back since she left her message, still doesn’t want to. 

Stripping off his shirt in one go, he grabs a fresh towel out of the bag they still haven’t organized around their new place, and heads for the shower. 

  


&

  


Beckett, as usual, returns home with a girl-- except that now home isn’t just _home_ , it’s _their room_ , and Patrick is met with the stark reminder of how mornings used to be whenever he came and lived with his family for a couple of weeks, taking time off from one-night stands while he spent his nights in Patrick’s room because it was better than living in an empty house. 

Walking in on Beckett with a towel around his waist, or even while changing-- it’s not weird. They are, after all, practically like brothers. Sharing a bed is a normal sort of thing, and he wonders if guys are usually this comfortable around each other. 

But then he has to listen in on Beckett making his bed creak and slam repeatedly into the wall while he whispers dirty words that make Patrick’s head spin with potential, and he can’t help but wonder if it’s normal to think about the things that he does sometimes. 

So he calls Cassie back first thing the next morning.

  


&

  


It had been a hard winter, and the bug population in New Haven is next to non-existent despite the overwhelming heat. Still, Patrick feels certain that he has to have a million bug bites by now, the lot of them-- and a couple of sorority girls and other frat guys-- sitting around a fire pit back behind their building as the sun slowly sets. 

It likely doesn’t help that he’s sitting in the grass. There were only so many lawn chairs, and when Beckett gestured for him to sit in front of him, comforting hand on his shoulder and all, he doesn’t stop him.

The chirps of the crickets and cicadas only seem to add to the summer night lull as Patrick shifts, letting his head lean back against Beckett's lawnchair and his leg. It's been a good summer, but. Having Beckett by his side means not knowing the alternative, and he can hardly express how grateful he is not to have stayed behind at UConn when Beckett hand moves from his shoulder to thread into his hair with a sigh. Comforting. 

Gradually, the conversation slows to a quiet lull as more and more people get up for fear of bug bites and to take one last shower before bed. 

"We should probably head in soon," Beckett mutters quietly, sighing as his hand fists in Patrick's hair, moving over his skin until he realizes what he's doing and stops, the lone hand coming back down to his shoulder once more. 

Patrick wonders, if he maybe doesn't say anything, they won't have to move. 

  


&

  


The campus streets in New Haven look painted sometimes, the way the streetlights flicker a soft glow over the pavement and everything seems peaceful. 

It reminds Beckett of the night that he first brought up a copy of Playboy up to Patrick's room, thirteen years old, wide-eyed and reckless with an undeniable grin on his face.

"How does this work?" Patrick had asked him as Beckett flipped to a two-page spread of a naked girl, throwing him a look. He'd been unsure of whether he was doing it right, too, but Patrick had always looked to him for guidance, and he cleared his throat, explaining that they were supposed to enjoy the view and touch themselves. 

Explaining had been awkward, so he'd just left himself to demonstrate for Patrick, and he didn't take too long to catch on, even in spite of Beckett's reprimand that they weren't supposed to stare at _each other_ , but the girl on the page. 

But by the time he'd been coming, even Beckett kept glancing over at Patrick, the way he stroked his cock, the way his eyes closed in bliss and he moaned, accidentally kicking off the magazine as he made a mess of his bare front with a groan, Patrick quickly following behind him. 

Now, things are different. Patrick picked Cassie instead of him, and Beckett compensates by sleeping around. It's not just the two of them anymore-- but it's close enough. 

It's still hot out, as sticky as the days filled with their come from opposite ends of the bed, and air conditioning hasn't done much to release Beckett from the wanting it all back, his hair still matted to his forehead from sweat accumulated by playing lacrosse out back with his frat brothers. 

Patrick has a chem test, but by the time he finally comes back into their joint room, closes and locks the door, he doesn't care anymore. 

"You deserve a break," he laughs, a comforting hand moving to gently squeeze at his shoulder. "Didn't ever think I'd have to tell you that, but."

"My dad will crucify me--"

" _Relax_ ," he's quick to purr, gripping on a bit more tightly as he gently taps at his shoulder, his hands encouraging him to get up. "Come on, get on the bed."

The thing about Patrick is that Beckett can tell him anything, and he'll trust him, on faith. So he gets on the bed, as baffled as he looks. 

"I can't take a nap now, Beck," he mutters, as tired as he sounds. Time away from Cassie has helped his work ethic, and he can't help but smile at his best friend as he moves to plop down on his own bed, in turn. 

"That's why we're not napping," he grins, shooting Patrick a look as he unzips and tugs out his dick with a groan. 

Just for a second, Patrick's eyes go wide before he rolls onto his back, his hands trembling as he follows Beckett's lead. 

"Don't-- look at me, stare at the ceiling, or something," Beckett reminds him even as his gaze keeps being drawn towards Patrick's hard dick in his hand, and he groans as he shifts slightly, jerking up into his hand more. "Fuck."

Patrick stays silent through the whole ordeal, his hand just thrusting viciously around himself with louder, more punctuated groans each time. He really can't fault him for the occasional glance because he's just as guilty as he is, or he wouldn't know, and neither of them mentions the other staring, which suits Beckett just fine. They don't need to make this more complicated than it needs to be. 

Patrick gets horny all the time. Beckett knows that, remembers the night he lost his virginity to Cassie, remembers spotting for him in situations like the damn drive-in, and all the other times he needed to escape his house to surreptitiously fuck her in the back of his car, in the spare room at Beckett's house while his parents are gone. He used to jerk it a lot-- and still does, now that he's been separated from the hip from the cheating, manipulative slut he calls a girlfriend-- but it pales to how often he'd find ways to fuck Cassie. It's not that he's kinky, eager to do it in public or in a school janitors closet-- he just wants it a lot, can never get enough of it. 

Sometimes Beckett wonders if he'd be the same way in bed with him, but the thought only ever goes so far before he stops it, shutting himself off from inevitable heartbreak. It's enough to picture Patrick and Cassie fucking to remind him that this is never going to happen, another glance over at Patrick's dick in his hand finally letting him come. 

He thinks too much while jerking it-- it's a chick thing to do-- but then Patrick comes and his chest feels too tight. He has no idea Beckett's watching him, grabbing a tissue as his gaze stays fixated on the small, erratic jerks and pumps into his hand as he groans, the way his face looks, pushed back into his pillow, fucking blissful in ways Beckett can't make him feel. 

Wiping off his stomach, he slowly gets up as Patrick fumbles for a Kleenex, eyes still closed as he pants softly, swearing under his breath. 

Stripping off his clothes, Beckett throws him a bitter smirk over his shoulder before disappearing info the bathroom.

"Three hours until your chem test, Einstein. Best get on that."

  


&

  


It's a particularly quiet evening on the day following Cassie's departure, and the setting sun looks as though it's been dipped generously in honey on the horizon through the trees still wearing their fall colors. 

All of Patrick's pent up sexual frustration is gone-- he thinks-- all poured into fucking Cassie, loving her, adoring her like old times, like he's used to, and like his body is now telling him is all wrong. 

Hearing her moan on his bed while he went at it, mindless and desperate for release that doesn't involve jealousy and wanting and craving and daring to look over at Beckett's hand on his dick-- it's supposed to be enough. 

The problem is that he didn't care so much about the girl beneath him, likely pretending to enjoy herself about as much he'd been. 

The look on Beckett's face the next morning. 

The sound of Beckett's hand on his dick in rhythm to Patricks gasps. 

The way Beckett refused to talk to him after-- and still isn't. 

It all has to come to a head at some point, and what better point than when the sky practically looks painted, bathing the room in a warm orange glow to contrast sharply with the cold expression on his face as Beckett intentionally bumps into him on the way to his desk. 

"You know what I don't get?" Patrick finally snaps, squaring his jaw as he turns to face him, the warmth from the setting sun shining through the window and onto his back oxymoronic to the moment. "Is how you get to have all these girls, and I pick _one_ , and you can't even accept that."

" _Cassie_ ," he finally snaps, getting up to glare at him, all fired up and so angry he can't stand it, "doesn't deserve you-- she never has!"

"Oh, and _you_ do?!"

That stops him, staring at Patrick for a long moment. "At least I'm not a cheating, lying tramp." The look on his face says it all, and Beckett continues. "What, that trash never told you that baby wasn't even yours? It was _my_ kid, and I _swore_ to that little whore that I wasn't going to ruin things for you guys as long as she gave it up and didn't make your life miserable." Swallowing hard, he slowly shakes his head. "As long as she didn't take you away from me and our future."

Patrick is at his throat in less than a second, Beckett just barely blocking his fist despite knowing he deserves that fucking punch. 

He can't believe it. 

Kicking, shouting, punching, and shoving has them ending up on the floor, but while Patrick was never into wrestling, Beckett was, and he pins him easily as they continue to grapple for dominance, Patrick yelling expletives at his best friend as he tries to get the upper hand back. 

Until Beckett slides his knee between his legs, and the world freezes. 

"You're hard."

"You're a fucking bastard!" 

But that doesn't stop him from gasping when Beckett pins both his arms with one of his, the other running down to grasp his cock through his pants, demanding, wanting. "Fuck, you really are hard."

"D-don't--" But Patrick's eyes close against the assault, and in his head, _don't_ somehow manages to turn into _don't stop_. 

"You have no idea how badly I want--"

Patrick groans, bucking up into Beckett's hand on instinct. The thought that they both wanted this makes too much sense, but the terror behind one's best friend saying _no_ has been too great, and he hates Cassis a little bit more for keeping them apart this long. 

"You can't tell me you don't want this anymore, Pat."

"Fuck--"

"I'm not going to stop," he growls, leaning in to claim his neck, rough and demanding, even as Patrick's hips grind desperately up into his, and he moans again, feeling evidence of Beckett's erection, too, with a soft smile and a gasp. 

"Fuck," he utters again, Beckett's hand speeding up on his cock with a groan. 

"You like that, huh? Shit, that's--"

The feeling of Beckett releasing his arms doesn't offer much relief, the realization of just for what he needed the second hand as he feels the fly of his pants coming undone to tug it all down, letting his erection spring free with a groan before Beckett follows. 

Patrick doesn't expect him to actually kiss him, but Beckett has always, always been full of surprises, and he can barely stifle the moan into his mouth as Beckett takes both of their cocks into his hand at once, jerking them roughly together. 

If anyone opens the door now, they're in for a rude awakening. 

Patrick doesn't care, his hips bucking up info Beckett's hand and against his best friend's cock. Beckett is a biter when he kisses, always needing to run the show, no matter what the situation, and Patrick knows him well enough by now to appreciate every last bit of him. 

They both come to soon, too much pent-up frustration in their systems not to, and when Patrick clings to Beckett with the flood of relief from his orgasm, Beckett doesn't move away, seemingly just as desperate and overwhelmed by this as he is, kissing his goddamn _cheek_ before smiling against him with a soft laugh. 

"Fuck," he says again, some kind of themeword for today, echoing Patrick's earlier sentiment as he slowly sits up to grab them tissues. These shirts can go straight in the wash, of course, not that they particularly care now. 

"Yeah," Patrick finally answers as he cleans himself up, his jaw hardening as he tries to make sense of this mess they've made. "So what does this--"

"If you tell anyone that I'm in love with you, I'll sock you," Beckett growls as he gets up and chucks off his pants to pull on his boxers to lounge in, instead. 

Patrick can hardly stop himself from grinning. "But you a--"

"Shut up."

  


&

  


They do love and want each other, even if they don't sleep in the same bed together save for those nights when they're home from school and Beckett sleeps in bed with him, anyway, where it's normal.

They don't tell anyone else their little secret, even though it only takes Patrick less than an hour and a voicemail message on her phone to break up with Cassie, and that's enough. 

Beckett doesn't even bring girls home anymore, and when Patrick catches him staring, though he still laughs and asks him what the hell he's staring at, now he knows it's because he only has eyes for him.

They can't get enough of each other. 

Now, when Patrick studies for his chem tests and Beckett pretends to read for his English classes, they even know what they're doing it for, and every damn time Beckett mentions their future together, Patrick can't help but smile sheepishly over the secret only they know. 


End file.
